


Intoxicated Dreaming

by reynebowbridge



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, First Time, Inebriated Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Party
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-06
Updated: 2012-08-04
Packaged: 2017-11-09 07:08:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/452707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reynebowbridge/pseuds/reynebowbridge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles ends up at Jackson Whittemore's party that's held in honor of all those Graduating. Derek Hale is there. And Stiles' night becomes extremely eventful. As does the rest of his summer. And possibly even his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Jackson Whittemore’s house is pretty huge. Okay scratch that, Jackson Whittemore’s mansion, is pretty huge. Stiles can’t help but stay standing in the walkway, staring up at the four story building because seriously, who even needs that many stories? Jackson Whittemore’s life is not some epic, novel-sized series. The only thing Jackson has ever done is be a douchebag and look pretty. Not that Stiles would ever admit to that, not to the pretty part at least. When Scott, his best friend since he was small, and had more hair, called to him to hurry up, he had to pick his jaw back up and nod because he would not be swayed by material things. But seriously, why didn’t Stiles have a house this large? He was totally worthy of having six stories in his mansion, not just four!

He spent a good minute fantasizing about what he would do with every floor as he followed Scott up the stairs and into the home. Honestly, Stiles had been pretty surprised to have a received an invitation to a party like this. He had been to one before, but that had been at Boyd’s house when the male wanted to celebrate their Lacrosse victory. The home had been much smaller, and the crowds were not full of every graduating senior in Beacon Hills High, just the guys from the team and their girlfriends.

Not that Stiles had had a girlfriend to bring, but, whatever. He remembered glaring at Scott and Allison the entire time when they snuggled together on the couch. Especially after Scott had glared at Stiles for automatically taking the only open seat beside his best friend, well excuse Stiles for trying to have a bonding moment, jeeze.

Music was pulsing from the speakers in the living room and Stiles had to stop and stare because holy crap every kid in every single class he had ever taken was in here as well as the kids he had only heard about and seen in the halls. Jackson had seriously invited every senior for their graduation coming up in three days and Stiles was at a loss. There were so many people, and even though these same people went to his school, he never saw them all in a home that while yes, was four stories tall, was still significantly less spacious than their actual school.

“Dude,” Stiles slapped at Scott’s arm, as if in a daze, “Um. Are you…are you sure you want to stay because a part of me is really thinking that this may be in violation of some fire safety code. You know how clumsy a lot of these people are, and now everyone’s intoxicated so that just puts everyone at risk of someone tripping up a chord, or spilling their drink on something electrical and starting a fire. Hell, I would not even be surprised if a fire started from all that grinding on the dance floor because that is carpet and people keep sliding around like they are Michael Jackson, do they not understand the dangers of friction and the fact that MJ used a hardwood flo-Scott!”

His arms waved out in exasperation and a sense of, ‘Of course’, when the male found his girlfriend as if he had some second instinct as to where Allison was at all times. Stiles wondered if Scott had some sort of chip implanted on her, or worse, a soul-mate bond. Shuddering at the thought, he turned away because the idea of being their third wheel all night long made Stiles want to curl up in the corner and cry to Lil Wayne, which in retrospect, could totally happen for the lack of grammar that man had. A tragedy, indeed.

For a while, Stiles just wandered, said hello to some people he knew who either didn’t see him, or didn’t care because only about five of them greeted him back in return. He found himself in the kitchen before long with its long, shiny black counters and top-line appliances. Stiles furrowed his brows as he poured himself beer and wondered what it was Jackson’s adoptive family did to earn so much money in the first place. Kill people? He considered it a possibility considering who Jackson was before the man in question himself strolled in with a beautiful redhead latched to his arm.

Stiles sighed and took a few gulps of the alcohol in his red Solo and pressed his lips together as his cheeks puffed out and he watched the golden couple float around and talk to guests. Stiles swallowed down the liquid so fast he actually coughed once Lydia Martin and stupid, what’s-his-face appeared before him. Jackson eyed Stiles, as if he were confused for a second, “…You got an invitation?”

The teenager could not help the way his mouth opened as if he were hurt, for a split second, “…Yes,” Stiles snapped, “I got an invitation! Danny passed it to me after practice last week.”  
“You’re a senior,” Jackson asked, brows rose while Lydia looked around the kitchen, too bored to even pretend to be concerned with Stiles.  
“Dude,” Stiles’ eyes widened and he shook his head, “I’m older than you by two months, yes I’m a senior!”  
“Oh,” Jackson tilted his head and shrugged his brows, “I just thought that you were one of those really smart thirteen year olds.”  
“Thirteen,” Stiles sputtered, his anger was now rising and his arm moved just to motion up and down the length of his body, “Does this look like the physique of a thirteen year old to you?”

“Lydia,” Jackson spoke his girlfriend’s name in question and Stiles wanted to curl up and die right then and there.  
“Hm,” She drew her green eyes over to her boyfriend, smiling in approval at the handsome appearance of his face; although she did fiddle with his collar a bit, brows creasing with irritation.  
“Do you think Bilinski here has the body of a thirteen year old?”  
Heat flamed through and into Stiles’ face, his heart raced and he shifted on his feet, waiting for the inevitable shut down as Lydia scrutinized his appeared. Stiles was dressed in blue jeans with a white v-neck shirt and a dark blue hoodie. His sneakers shifted against the ground and he clutched his cup a bit tighter as he tried to ignore the way his stomach dropped.  
Lydia shrugged, “Why do I care if he has the body of an adolescent or not? Come on Jackson,” She sighed and pulled at her boyfriend’s arm, “Let’s go find Allison. Since Stiles is here, I’m sure Scott and Allison are near-by.”

Well that was definitely a better answer than Stiles had been dreading. He had been fairly certain that Lydia would have totally ripped him apart bit by bit for his slim physique and demoted him to a toddler, rather than a thirteen year old. When he emptied the rest of his cup, Stiles swiftly filled it back up because there was no way he would be able to deal with this party totally sober. He was supposed to be graduating, he was supposed to be free and to be liberating himself with celebrating this major milestone in life, but instead, he was still ignored, still as awkward as ever, and still without Lydia Martin.

Stiles could have guessed that having Lydia Martin was just another pipe-dream, but still. It had been a dream that he had been feeding and obsessing over since he was small. One would think that after all these years of saving his virginity and his third kiss; he would have something to show for the way he felt. Not that he thought Lydia would just jump into bed with him, but the idea had been nice. A kiss on the cheek would have honestly sufficed, or an acknowledgement of his existence beyond asking for the time or being fussed at for accidentally scuffing her heels. Ah, high school memories…he wondered if college would give him anything different to work with.

Looking down into his cup, Stiles realized that through the length of time he had taken to mentally berate him-self and monologue; he had finished most of his beer already. Sneaking a peek up and around the kitchen to see if anyone would stop him from refilling his cup, his big brown eyes froze on a figure near the kitchen doorway. The guy was turned so that Stiles could only see his profile, but Stiles…Stiles knew him. With his tanned skin, black hair, and blue-green-grey-whatever the hell-colored eyes, and leather jacket, he stood out in a crowd of teenagers who could never pull off his amount of…cool.

Cool was an understatement, probably. Derek Hale was known through-out Beacon Hills ever since his parents died in a freak accident that involved fire and cars. He had been suspected at first for being the one to snap his parent’s breaks in their car on their way to date-night, but the case had taken a pretty dramatic twist when Kate Argent was found guilty. It had something to do with twisted business deals on her side, the parents finding out, and pure insanity. Stiles knew more than most thanks to creeping around his father’s records and files in the past. He liked to think he was just doing research for the day he chose to take over as a writer on Law and Order, but really he was just being a snoop.

Anyway, Derek Hale was someone Stiles…sort of knew. He lived down the street from Stiles with his sister Laura; Stiles often passed his place on his way to school just to see him working on his car, or his sister’s motorcycle. Once, Stiles had broken down on the corner of his street and Laura had seen it from her yard, so she got her little brother to twist and pull, and flex-no wait, not flex, fix…his jeep, Norma. Yes his jeep was named Norma; he remembered having to explain that to Derek with red cheeks.

Now however, Stiles found himself flushed for totally different reasons when Derek looked away from the girl he was speaking to, and smiling at. His head lifted and his gaze found Stiles across the room. The teenager put his cup to his lips and averted his eyes, just to remember that there were only a few drops left. He still made a rather convincing gulp as the man moved towards him. Stiles’ tongue flicked up over his upper lip, nearly touching his nose as he tried to pace himself and count to twenty before he got another refill. Before he even got to five, Derek was there taking his cup away.

“Whoa,” Stiles exclaimed, hand reaching out and flailing, Derek was quick though and he threw the plastic back into a trashcan almost half way across the kitchen. “What the hell dude, that was my cup!”  
“Obviously,” Derek replied, his voice low and yet still easy to hear over the music streaming from the living room. “You’re under twenty-one,” The tall, dark, handsome, intimidating male continued. “And you’re the Sheriff’s son, why are you out drinking?”  
“Why are you at a party for a bunch of teenagers,” Stiles quipped with a smart arch of his brows.  
Derek shrugged, “Jackson needed me to buy the beers, so I did.”  
Stiles could not help his mouth from falling open, “You’re buddy-buddy with Jackson of all people?! I should have known-hey,” Maybe he should have stopped drinking a long time ago because he reached out and slapped a hand over Derek’s chest. “How can you throw away my drink and try to lecture me about my alcoholic tendencies when you’re in here enabling my desires?”  
Something about those words must have caught Derek off guard because Stiles watched the way his lips twitched down and his feet shift against the floor. Stiles remained where he was though, peering at him intently.  
“I bought them for Jackson and his guests, not for you,” Derek finally spoke and turned to get his own cup of beer. When Stiles tried to reach out and take it, a hand was shoved over his face and he was pushed back at arm’s length. Feeling like a child who had taken too much cough syrup, Stiles didn’t care to fight back, but he did narrow his eyes at Derek through the slips of his fingers.  
“…Dumbass,” Stiles finally grumbled and punched Derek’s arm away, hearing the male snort; the teenager crossed his arms with a pout. “I am a guest, thank you very much. So therefore I have access to all the beer and you can’t stop me.”

“I can if I’m the one who bought it,” Derek replied with a slow turn of his head, his brows were up in what Stiles believed to be a ‘sassy’ manner. Which totally offended Stiles, instead of amusing him, especially when Derek’s lips pursed a bit and he looked as if he were waiting for Stiles to protest, “I’m not about to be the one responsible for getting the Sherriff’s son drunk, so I’m stopping you before it gets out of hand and my ass is hauled to jail.”  
“Okay, first of all,” Stiles stepped forward, head canting in a way that his father would say was full of attitude. Whatever, Derek deserved his full-fledged attitude and a kick to his ass for ruining his night. Or maybe that was Jackson. “My name is Stiles; say it with me now, Stiles Stilinski. Not ‘The Sherriff’s Son’ if you can’t even say my name then you don’t even have to worry because I can tell someone that some other total douchebag got me wasted and not Derek Hale. Secondly,” Stiles scoffed, “It is my night to party, okay? I am graduating and I want just one night with all these people to go better than the past thirteen years I have spent with them. I just want to have a good time, and for me, alcohol is a part of that.”

Licking his lips, Stiles set his hand on the counter and leaned into Derek who had been sipping at his beer and staring at him the entire time. No really, every word, every breath, every expression, Derek had seen it all. Odd…no one ever looked at him for extended amounts of time in the midst of all his ranting and raving. Usually they were blinking, sighing, rolling their eyes, looking at their watches (or cellphones since watches were becoming horribly outdated), at their shoes, etc. Stiles was just totally used to be on the back-burner, but he was probably just really tipsy and reading into things…again…so much reading into things to desperately find an answer he enjoyed.

 

“So,” Stiles moved his hand up and poked Derek’s chest, “If you want to be a total party pooper, go ahead man. Be that guy. Be the guy who ruins my dreams.”  
“Your dream is to get wasted at a party full of idiots? That’s it?”  
“It’s the only dream within my reach,” Stiles replied, a little whine escaping at the end of his sentence. “Please, just let me party with absolutely no recollection of what will happen.”  
“And who’s going to drive you home,” Derek asked, voice curious and still loud enough for Stiles to hear. No one else seemed to notice though.  
“W-uh…” Stiles patted over his sides and then reached into his hoodie to pull out his keys, “Myself. Duh-hey,” He exclaimed when Derek snatched those away, too. “Stop taking my shit, man! It’s not cute,” Reaching out, he stumbled forward when the jingling noise became muffled behind Derek’s back. Derek turned with his back against the stove, while Stiles moved in front of him so that they were sandwiched between the kitchen isle and the over.  
“I’m not trying to be cute,” Derek shook his head and stuck his keys into his leather jacket’s pocket. “I’m trying to keep you safe, and alive. You can thank me later; this is the price you pay for getting wasted.”

“Yeah well,” Stiles snorted and leaned back against the counter as a blonde squeezed by between them, “Your rates suck! I don’t recall you have anything I’m interested in buying anyway.” He narrowed his eyes when Derek pressed his lips together and leaned his head down, as if he were close to smiling.  
He waited for all of three seconds before he sent himself across the remaining space and pressed himself against Derek. Desperate to get his keys back, and perhaps still a bit foggy, his hands skimmed the male’s ribs, to his hips, and then fumbled with the leather of Derek’s jacket. Derek froze for a moment as he allowed Stiles to grope him until one of the teen’s hands slipped into his pocket. And then he turned, pushing Stiles away from the kitchen, Stiles walked backwards, eyes wide and feet catching in the carpet. Derek had him by the arms though so every time he stumbled, Derek would snatch Stiles back up.

No one even seemed to notice…or care. Stiles wondered briefly if he would die before he graduated but then he remembered that Derek was not a murderer, he just gave murderous looks from time to time. He’d never been violent or particularly mean to Stiles, but now that he was legal, perhaps Derek wanted to take him to town…with his fists. Oh god he did not want to go to Derek-Fist town. That did not sound like a cheerful town at all. Jumping a bit on his feet, he squeaked when he finally slammed against what appeared to be a door. The knob pressed against his hip and he arched against Derek to try and wiggle free, away from the discomfort.

“Whoa,” Stiles finally squeaked when he felt Derek push his hips back, “Whoa hey there, cowboy man…thing. What are you doing? Just give me my keys back and I’ll drive home this very instant.”  
“So,” The taller man leaned in and Stiles went terribly still when he felt the tip of Derek’s nose run along his jaw. “Your dream before graduating high school is just to get drunk?”  
“Well,” Stiles gulped, “Technically, I’ve already graduated. I mean the last day of school was yesterday, but graduation is like, in three days, and I mean, there’s really no way for me to get to my other dreams, so I’m just going to stick with…with this. With the drinking and, the…the thing, I was doing. Before you interrupted me,” He nodded, smiling, tightly, as if signaling for Derek to just back off now.

“What else do you want to do before you leave for college,” Derek’s breath ran hot over Stiles’ neck and the teenager, no, legal young adult, Stiles reminded himself, had to close his eyes and focus so freaking hard on not melting right then and there.  
“Seriously,” Stiles squeaked, “You want to know?”  
“Tell me.”  
“Fuuuhhhh-ugh! Fine, okay,” Stiles licked his lips and shivered when Derek’s mouth brushed right over his pulse. Stiles should have been kicking and shoving him away but he just remained, stiff and sliding his feet across the floor as his stomach became full of heat. Why was he aroused? He was probably wasted already; he never was very good on holding his alcohol. 

“So,” Stiles sighed, “What I want to do before I graduate is this. Listen carefully because I won’t say it again,” Derek just arched a brow at that. Yeah, Stiles would say it again if Derek asked…whatever. “I want to go on a road trip, I want to get a tattoo-don’t give me that look-I want to climb a mountain, and I want to…” Stiles pulled his lips together and shook his head. “You know what? Nevermind. Let me go now, please.”  
“I will if you tell me the last thing you just omitted,” Derek stared steadily into Stiles’ eyes now, no longer making him feel as if he would internally combust from pressing himself close and making him fidget.

Exasperated, Stiles decided to study the ceiling because it was oddly fascinating. Jackson’s roof was pretty nice, it was a crème color, and sort of differed from the ceiling in his kitchen, and it was only a few paces away. Derek had successfully shoved Stiles out of the kitchen and across the little hall up against a door to God knows where. Down the hall led into the living room and Stiles could hear people shouting, laughing, could just imagine Lydia Martin twirling around the dance floor and he wanted so badly to break away and take a seat on the couch so that he could do something besides sit and wallow, and drink…he could watch her dance, too. 

Instead, he decided to appease Derek’s curiosity because then he could be let go of, possibly. If he were lucky and the gods of fortune were shining down on him, slowly he brought his gaze to Derek’s and decided to meet his gaze without flinching or folding into himself. He was going to say this, whether the male wanted to hear it or not and it would be his entire fault for bringing it up in the first place because Stiles had been content with letting it go. 

“I want to get laid,” Stiles stated, he tried to ignore the way his voice cracked at that last word but he just licked his lips and registered the way Derek’s eyes seemed to dilate. Okay, that was weird. “Can you let me go now,” He asked with a tight smile and a raise of his brows. Nodding, his hands came up to try and pry Derek’s grip off of him but the other guy seemed to have something else in mind. When he leaned down, Stiles went terribly still and he felt as if his heart would jet forth out of his throat at any second.

For some reason, Stiles would never admit why, a shudder went through when Derek’s lips ghosted over his own and he could feel the heated rush of his neighbor’s, well, block-sharer’s, jeep fixer’s, breath on his lips. His legs slowly began to feel like melted chocolate and he would let out a rather surprised gasp, followed up by an insanely attractive croak. He was up close and personal with Derek Hale and all he could think about was how Derek smelled like smoky wood, leather, and cinnamon. He was a strong, acquired taste; one that Stiles was desperate to get familiar with. So when Derek actually kissed him, he did not push him away, not like he initially thought he would. Kissing dudes had not been something Stiles had been fantasizing about-okay that was a total lie but he had been pretty certain that every dream would be locked away. It would never come true; it would never come into fruition. It would just linger around, like a funny smell, for the rest of his life.

Instead, Derek’s tongue was pushing into his mouth and Stiles desperately tried to keep up. He wanted this to be a kiss Derek would never forget and that Stiles would always appreciate remembering. And-oh god since when did he start wanting to impress and draw in Derek Hale of all people. He shivered as those warm hands slid beneath the warmth of his hoodie, the zipper was half way down, and Derek used that to trace over Stiles’ ribs, back along to his spine, over the cloth of his shirt. With every flick of Derek’s tongue, Stiles’ own would rush and rise to meet his. It was getting difficult to breathe and Derek seemed to understand that.

When he pulled back away from Stiles’ bruised lips, his eyes sparkled and he whispered, “I could help with that dream…”  
“Which dream,” Stiles asked his voice tight with lust and strangled on excitement.  
“Any dream you want, you tell me.”  
Stiles’ smart-ass popped up in the shadows of his mind, but he just reached behind him and fiddled with the door knob. Luckily, they ended up in what appeared to be a laundry room. Oh, so maybe they weren’t that lucky. Stiles looked back over his shoulder, unsure of what to say as he took in the washer and drier, and then slowly drew his gaze back to see Derek walking in as well. He closed the door and then turned up the lock…Stiles gulped, while Derek removed his jacket. 

Narrowing his eyes, Stiles watched the way Derek took in the room, as if they had just rented out some five-star suite for the night, but then Derek was looking at him and Stiles suddenly felt like a GQ Model that Derek had been lusting after for months. Stiles slowly backed up, it wasn’t a huge room, but it was large enough to press himself against the wall with the drier at his right and a bare wall at his left. He looked to the door over Derek’s shoulder and then back up at the older man. “Decided which dream you wanted help with yet, Stiles,” Derek asked and oh god, Derek’s voice sounded like dripping honey over his name.

So apparently Derek listened from time to time and took pointers. Because at this point if Derek dared to refer to him as the Sherriff’s son, he would be outtie. Quick fast.

“I..I think,” Stiles licked his lips, “I think I would really prefer the idea, of erm, well. Of…the last dream I stated y’know? The one with all the laying and the,” His hands came up and his fingers slotted together awkwardly, “Suggestive undertones of filthy sex?”  
Apparently that was all the push Derek needed because he soon had Stiles pressed tightly against the wall Stiles chose to camp out against. The younger male could feel his temperature rising as Derek returned to his mouth. Alcohol ran rampant through both of them, but they weren’t wasted really…Stiles wouldn’t call slipping over his own shoes and almost falling out of his jeans as wasted. Just clumsy, he had always been clumsy.

He was very aware of what was going on and what he wanted though. Stiles had never been more attuned to his desires and fantasies as he was now. Moving with Derek, their tongues would dance, wildly within each other’s mouths, while Derek made an art form of getting Stiles naked in forty seconds or less. When the air brushed across his bare skin, Stiles could feel Goosebumps rising along his arms and spine. He felt mildly embarrassed as his thin, pale form was exposed but once again, Derek had made a point of sweeping his eyes across Stiles’ body that made a wave of heat rush between his legs. 

Derek’s lips tilted up to the left, but no full smile was on the horizon anytime soon. His hand reached out and Stiles gasped as warm, coarse fingers surrounded his member. His head went back as a strangled sound of desire wormed its way up his throat. His pulse began to ricochet off of his collar bone and his hands scrambled back against the wall. “Not fair,” Stiles pushed out as Derek’s hand continuously stroked, and moved along his length.

When he spotted that dark brow rising in mild amusement, those hazel eyes, that was the only way Stiles could refer to them, narrowed as Derek got closer. “Elaborate,” His voice thrummed through Stiles and the teenager squirmed when Derek’s thumb circled around the head of his cock.  
“You’re st-…still clothed,” Stiles managed to say as his hips began to move up into every stroke of Derek’s hand. Well so far, this party had become far more eventful than he had originally prepared for. Getting a hand-job from Derek Hale was a definite surprise, one that he welcomed with open arms.  
Derek nodded, acknowledging that Stiles was right, he followed up with, “I should change that, hm?”  
“Please,” Stiles breathed.

The younger, skinnier, generally less attractive (in Stiles’ opinion) of the two, was left to watch with extreme lust, envy, and embarrassment as Derek removed his shirt and left it with his jacket. He was about to work on his jeans, but Stiles stumbled across and his body shoved up against Derek’s. Derek grunted in surprise, but he didn’t stop Stiles as the smaller form wriggled against his.  
“What the hell,” Stiles whispered as he ran his hands across Derek’s broad shoulders, down to his chest. Derek snorted and looked down before finally looking back up. “What?”  
“You’re ripped,” Stiles exclaimed, his voice sounded betrayed, “You are totally freaking built! What the hell is this? Decimate Stiles’ self-image into the negative millions day? How is this even possible?! Look at you! You’re perfect,” He whispered the last part and his nails would slide over Derek’s abdomen. Oh yeah, he was totally drunk. If Stiles had been sober, he would have kept that monologue in his head. Instead he continued to murmur and curse his own existence before Derek shut him up with a filthy kiss and a whisper of. “Were you just going to talk all night, or were we about to fuck?”

Oh right. Okay. Yeah. Stiles had his virginity to lose, how could he forget that?

Luckily Stiles’ limbs had thought ahead, the touches across Derek’s stomach moved lower and he snapped open the snug jeans. Stiles worked the denim down and pulled at the briefs beneath so that both articles of clothing came off in a rather impressive amount of speed. He looked up, breathless as Derek stared down at him with those hungry eyes. For a moment, Stiles thought that he never wanted to see that gaze sated. He wanted to feed Derek his body night after night. But he quickly dismissed those thoughts and moved back when Derek stepped out of his shoes and jeans, now they were totally naked. Alone. In Jackson’s laundry room. 

Stiles peered up, silent, and totally unsure of what to do as Derek took in Stiles from head to toe, and within seconds, large hands became planted against his ass and he was lifted to sit at the edge of a drier. His brows shot up and his mouth fell open as Derek moved between his thighs which parted immediately so that Derek could lean in and begin to place warm, suckling kisses along the firm flesh. Stiles’ stomach sunk in with a release of breath and then he yelped when Derek’s tongue flicked across the swell of his balls.

“Derek,” He whispered, a moment of clarity reached him in the haze of lust and alcohol, “Oh my god-Derek!” He tried not to be intimidated by that growl when Derek realized that Stiles was not just calling his name in ecstasy.  
“What,” He snapped, only lifting his eyes, and not his head, with his breath spilling across Stiles’ dick.  
“Are you,” Stiles squirmed and he wished Derek would just stand up straight already because this was such a distracting angle, “Sure that you want to do this? With me? I am the Sherriff’s kid after all.”  
“Are you eighteen,” Derek asked, while his hands smoothed along Stiles’ thighs, up to his hips. His head turned and he began to kiss the flesh between those milky thighs again.  
“Y…Yes.”  
“Are you a consenting adult who wants to have sex with me?”  
Stiles blushed and nodded, unable to say anything, until Derek said, “Yes or no, Stiles.”  
“Yes!”  
When Derek’s mouth skimmed across the underside of Stiles’ member, his tongue teased along the flesh right beneath the head and then did an impressive twirl up to the tip. “Then yes, Stiles. I want to do this. With you.”  
All of Stiles’ protest flew out of the room when Derek’s mouth soared down over his cock.

Oh god, where did Derek learn how to-no, he was not going into that territory. He would not think about Derek’s past conquests, Stiles wanted to focus on the here and now and the fact that Derek was tasting him without restraint. His head moved up and down while his tongue spun and pushed against hard, pulsing flesh. He panted as Derek’s hand cupped over Stiles’ balls. When Derek pushed himself further, Stiles could not help the moan that spilled before because he could feel Derek’s throat pulsating around him. The older male’s nose was pressed into the trail of hair that went from Stiles’ navel and the future Salutatorian could only watch as Derek took him deep, and fast. Over…and over.

He never would have guessed that Derek Hale possessed such talent. The more you know.  
Still, Derek was moving, and this was about to end…fast, so Stiles pushed at Derek’s forehead and shook violently when Derek’s teeth skimmed along the sensitive flesh as Derek stood up. “Too much,” Stiles explained. Derek seemed to understand.

Looking down over Stiles’ body, he whispered, “Condom?”  
Stiles was totally silent for a moment because he now just realized how much more real this had become. “P…Pocket, back…pocket, right side.” Derek fumbled with Stiles’ jeans and soon he was biting into the metallic wrapper and rolling the latex over his cock. It was a snug fit, thanks to the size being accommodated to Stiles, and not Derek, but it would do. Derek then glanced around the laundry room and the little metal shelves that lined the wall above the washer and drier. He reached up and moments later, his fingers were lathered in non-scented lotion.

Big brown eyes watched the way Derek’s fingers became slick and coated with lotion. The gentle squeeze of it moved along those strong digits and then his hand eased between Stiles’ thighs. And then lower, between his cheeks, his middle finger eased around Stiles’ rim. Stiles moved his hands back against the top of the drier and watched with an open mouth as Derek’s finger eased into him. He gasped at the feeling, he was not a stranger to feeling back there, but he was relatively new to having someone else feeling into his body.

His chest rose with a sudden breath when another finger joined the one that was already sliding in and out, he could feel the press and pull of those digits against his tight muscles. Oh god, this was going to be painful, wasn’t it? Derek reached a hand up to tug over Stiles’ dick while his other continued to press and scissor against the restraint to make their time together more bearable. Stiles could hear the music pounding beyond the walls, but it barely registered. The only sound he was really focused on were the breaths and grunts Derek released mixed with his own sighs and desperate, pained moans.

Those fingertips curled up and Stiles could only freeze when Derek pressed into a spot that made his hips jerk up and his hands press hard against the drier. His mouth opened up and his brows wrinkled as a strained, barely there whisper of a moan escaped. Black dots flooded his vision and when Derek pulled his hand back, Stiles’ right one shot out to latch onto Derek’s wrist. “No, no, no! Don’t stop, oh god Derek, please!” When he looked up he saw the satisfied expression Derek wore as he shook his head.

“No,” Derek refused him and Stiles whimpered at Derek’s cruelty as his hand went and shoved Stiles’ thigh back until the boy’s heel was at the edge of the appliance. Stiles scooted forward as he knew what was coming next, but that didn’t stop him from glaring.

The pain was intense, the pain made Stiles’ inebriation seem very far away, as well as the lust he had been drowning in. Derek had slicked up his cock with lotion, but it hardly helped. He felt like he was being ripped apart, but Derek was careful. He hardly moved, only arched and tilted his hips back a tiny bit to work himself deeper into the grooves of Stiles’ entrance. What drew Stiles’ attention away from the ache was the totally blown expression in Derek’s eyes.

He was into this; he was falling just as deep as Stiles was before into the pleasure. And as Stiles watched, he found himself tumbling again, the pain decreased dramatically when their foreheads came together and their lips began to push and grind of their own accord. Soon, Derek was moving his hips in time with the push and pull of their tongues. Stiles’ breath hitched when Derek tilted up and Stiles felt the swollen tip press against the bundle of nerves that lit Stiles on fire. Hastily his legs wrapped around Derek’s waist when the older male’s hands gripped Stiles by the ass.

When his back met the wall, Stiles clung to Derek and threw his face up to the ceiling with a surprised and very enthusiastic scream as Derek’s hips would piston against his own. The slow, intimate pace was gone and its place was something hard, gritty, and passionate. Stiles considered just for a moment that it felt as if Derek had been waiting to fuck Stiles this hard for a very long time, so he wasn’t about to just let it go to waste. Once again, Stiles had to shove that silly thought aside because it would get him nowhere.

In the midst of their intense thrusting, Stiles heard his phone ring and cracked open an eye to look over Derek’s shoulder, on the floor, his phone was face up. Scott was calling him…but whatever, that would have to wait. His head tilted back and his breath could not be controlled as their foreheads came together once again. The furious pace jostled Stiles around Derek’s body and the grip he had on Derek’s waist with his thighs broke for just a second. Soon though, he was gathering himself back around the man who readily fucked into him with nothing but pure, driven lust.

When they began to move, Stiles realized that they were losing height, fast, and moaned when his back met the floor. Staring up into Derek’s eyes, he keened as the older, handsome male hitched Stiles’ legs up and over his shoulders. Stiles’ arms went down against his sides and his nails scraped against the floor as his moaned and writhed beneath every thrust. Desperately, he tried his best to meet every push of Derek’s cock, but sometimes, he could only take what Derek had to give him, completely overwhelmed.

Moments later, Stiles came and he could see white across his vision as his hot come splattered along his stomach and chest. His eyes were squeezed so tight, he began to get a headache, or maybe that was the alcohol talking. He felt Derek’s breath in puffs against his neck as the one who took his virginity continued to move into him. And then, with a very jolting bite to Stiles’ neck, Derek tensed up.

Stiles whined when Derek left his body but he moaned when he felt Derek’s come mix in with his own across his flesh. He stared up, dazed and lust-addled with a pounding heart as Derek growled through his orgasm and bit back a roar Stiles longed to hear. Instead, the darker of the two sat back on his knees, panting, while Stiles laid there and watched the other come down from his orgasm.

Slowly, Derek got up, and bent to help Stiles to his feet. Unfortunately, Stiles was even clumsier post-bliss, and the two of them stumbled back against the wall. Stiles peered up, flushed and eager for something more. Not just sex but…he wasn’t sure what. Unsure of what to say, he took the kiss Derek offered him instead and listened as a whisper brushed across his mouth, “One of your dreams have been fulfilled…if…you need help fulfilling any others during the summer…I’m available.”

With a blur of denim and leather, Derek was gone with a final look back and a click of the door.

Stiles numbly got his clothes on, and tried to ignore that ache between his legs as he struggled to get his jeans on, followed by his shirt and hoodie. By the time he had laced up the final shoe, his phone rang again.

He picked up on the first ring.

“Stiles,” Scott exclaimed, “Oh my god where are you? I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”  
Stiles remained in the laundry room that no longer smelled like soap and flowers, just sex and sweat. “I’m in Jackson’s house, still. Why? Where are you?”  
“Kitchen!”  
“Why are you so loud,” Stiles groused as he went to the door and thumped his forehead against the surface. Why couldn’t Derek walk back in and offer him a ride home? Oh right, because Stiles had driven his jeep and oh-because random party hook-ups didn’t just drive you home right after.

Still, they were sort of kind of…neighbors, one would think that the courtesy would have been given.  
“Allison got really sick. I wanted to let you know that I was going to drive her home. Wanted to make sure that you were in the condition drive before I did that though.”  
Was Scott actually being a considerate friend?  
Stiles shook his head, “Take her home, Scott. I’ll be fine.”

When he hung up, Stiles just shoved the device back into his pocket and walked out. When he did though, he spotted Scott hanging up as well in the kitchen and guiding Allison away from the sink. Looking away to his right, Stiles down the hall and towards Jackson’s front door. Once he got there though, Jackson slung the door open and smiled, he reeked of alcohol but he was sober enough to say, “Good job Bilinski. You didn’t make a fool of yourself at my party. I was totally expecting you to take a nose dive off of the banister.”

Stiles fixed Jackson with a hateful glare, and was about to reply before his eye caught onto the figure of Derek Hale passing by Norma, Stiles’ jeep. His hand skimmed across Stiles’ hood and then over the lights, he rapped once with his knuckles, sighed, and walked away. Jackson frowned when Stiles stumbled away hurriedly.

Before Stiles could catch up with Derek though, that sleek, black Camaro was driving off and the red lights blinked at him from the stop sign at the end of Jackson’s street.

Stiles slowly got into his car and leaned back. When he finally looked down he saw his keys on the passenger seat and realized that Derek had dropped them off after he had taken Stiles' keys away. Once again he wondered why Derek was not offering him a ride. He was in no shape to drive himself. When he thought about it, he wondered if Derek was just as bad off.

“That just happened,” He whispered, his skin felt alien, his mouth tasted like alcohol and spice, his lips ached with longing, and when he slid his key into the Jeep’s ignition, he pressed his forehead against the wheel when the engine whined long and hard.

“I know baby, I know.”

Stiles Stilinski could graduate, knowing he was no longer a virgin.  
And in the place of such an absence, remained hundreds of questions, lewd fantasies, and a longing that made him want to scream.

Derek Hale was not some Jeep-Fixer, he was a life-ruiner, and Stiles would do all he could to avoid him and his perfect cheek bones. He was trying to go to college, not focus on stupid dreams and an even bigger dream that loomed over him like a freaking hurricane.  
Nu-uh.  
No way.  
No sir.

Still, when Stiles laid in bed that night after a shower…he had to wonder what it would feel like to wake up next to Derek Hale after a night of incredible sex.

 

\-----------------------------------

HI.  
HI.  
Okay, so, it's been a long time since I've really posted fan-fiction for any fandom of mine, like, since middle-school, okay, but, I thought I would go ahead and give it a go.  
I hope you like it.  
There will be more parts to this story, so stay tuned.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles decides to go after one of his many dreams so Derek tags along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long but my writing bug tends to come and go! It'll be added on to more in time.  
> Hope ya like it.

Despite how Derek had told Stiles that he was available for whatever the hell he was talking about, Stiles preferred to think of Derek as someone who was so totally out of his reach that they no longer lived on the same block. It was pretty simple really, if he just thought that Derek had ascended into some plane of existence where only beautiful people with perfect cheek bones and eye colors that went beyond the labels of a crayon box, he could live thinking he would never see Derek again. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see him it was just…if he saw him, what in the world could he possibly say?

‘Hey man, had a great time with you the other night, your sex is awesome.’  
Or.  
‘So I’m totally hoping that you are available for being my forever lover because that is the only dream I can think of having you fulfill.’

Of course there were other ideas, small phantom scenarios that crept into his mind when he showered or googled the colleges he had to choose from. He had told Derek what else he had wanted, but he wondered if the male was up to something like that. 

It was probably dumb of Stiles to believe that Derek would suddenly be his friend, or the guy he slept around with, and on the day his mind felt particularly out of reach, his boyfriend. Stiles preferred to keep all of his ‘what-ifs’ about Derek locked up tight in a bubble far, far away that could be popped at any second if a certain swarthy young man would just reach out and pop it. As it were, ever since the party that night…Stiles had been going out of his way to avoid Derek. He started taking out the trash around one in the morning every Thursday, he had switched up grocery stores since he knew Derek frequented the one five miles away, instead of ten. He no longer passed Derek’s house when he needed to go somewhere. Instead he would go left and take the main road instead of the short-cuts that didn’t lead him into steady traffic if he had somewhere to go.

Stiles’ gas tank was protesting pretty loud but Stiles thought he had been doing a good job. Graduation had already come and gone after all. Their caps had gone flying and the whole class of Beacon Hills had run across the Lacrosse Fields, whooping and hollering because they were finally done with high school. It had been a glorious day, and if Stiles was feeling particularly generous with his information, he would admit that he shed a few tears in the midst of hugging Scott, Allison, his dad…hell he had even jumped Danny and a few guys from the team like Boyd and Isaac with tight, spontaneous hugs.

So the jeep was getting a break from having to drive to school every day, he only went over to the houses of his ex-team mates’ and Scott’s place, as well as running errands for his dad. So he could avoid Derek Hale, he could totally do that.

Except, on one Saturday afternoon he was in the frozen foods aisle, shoved into one of the freezers, leaning against the glass door, looking for ice cream, when someone moved in behind him. A dark, large hand moved out and grabbed a tub of Rocky Road. Stiles didn’t need to look up to know who it was, he recognized that scent from anywhere, and as well as those hands. Considering some of those fingers had been inside…  
Stiles tilted his head up to chase whatever dark, smoldering thoughts had begun to gather like a storm in his brain and fixed his bright, brown eyes on a face that stared down at him with amusement. 

“You,” Stiles began gently, and cleared his throat, “So uh. You shop here now? What happened? Did Leno’s discontinue that particular brand of ice-cream or something? Gotta hate when that happens.” Stiles reached out into the freezer and grabbed whatever his fingers latched onto, he stole a glance and saw that he had gotten Chocolate Chip…well, his dad would have to deal with that flavor. Dumping it into his cart behind him, he turned but realized that with the trolley behind him and Derek at his side, he was trapped…unless he did some awkward dance and squeezed between the door and the cart. He considered it for ten seconds but decided just to turn his focus on Derek.

Derek Hale…  
The Derek that fixed his jeep…  
The Derek that took his virginity.

Stiles gulped and hated him-self for how audible the sound was. Derek on the other hand just kept looking at his freaking ice-cream as if it were the eighth wonder of the world. He faintly remembered how Derek had looked at him the same way just two weeks ago. God, had it really been that long? Stiles could only think of how the only thing that had changed since then was that he had graduated, no longer drove to the high school every day, and had seen a significantly lot less amount of Derek since that crazy party. The crazy party he had yet to speak to anyone about. 

“Nah,” Derek finally spoke and Stiles let out the breath he had been holding because how could someone stay so quiet for so long? “I just noticed that the kid who usually buys up the Reese’s ice-cream and Doritos was suddenly nowhere to be found, so I thought to myself to find out where he went. For one second I almost thought you had run away, or died, but that’s impossible because the Sheriff would be in hysterics, so. Here you are. What happened? Did your favorite brand of ice-cream get discontinued?”

Stiles snorted, “What? No. I just,” He gulped and began to slowly ease the cart back so that he could allow himself some room, closing the freezer door, he shrugged and walked around so that he was at the back of the cart. Derek moved up and grabbed the handles, staring at Stiles and setting his frozen dessert in Stiles’ cart. “…I just thought that Norma needed some exercise, you know? She needed a change of scenery and some extra road to stretch out on, so I decided to start coming here because the prices are…” He glanced at the shelf opposite of the freezer, since the frozen desserts were last of the line-up of frozen things; he was left staring at bread and softly sighed. “…More…expensive…but! You know what they say about higher-pricing meaning higher-quality…or something.”

Derek just stared at him through the whole thing as if he were the dumbest eighteen-year-old on earth. And maybe he was, maybe Derek was right for staring at him like that.  
“You’re lying, well, more like you’re feeding me bull-shit,” Derek stated and just crossed his arms over the bar of the cart, he stared at Stiles and seemed intent on have a showdown right in the bread and ice-cream aisle. Well so be it. 

“Well you know what you’re doing,” Stiles snapped, ready to go and fight it out, whatever it was, with Derek, right at that very moment. When Derek just tilted his head, he said, “You are stalking me. Yeah! You’re a stalker, because, what the hell dude? Why do care you about where I go to shop for my ice-cream and my,” He suddenly snatched out the tub of ice-cream and shoved it back in to the freezer, in the wrong spot, when he noticed they had Reese’s ice-cream. Changing out the dessert, he huffed and threw the bucket in with the rest of the crap piled up in his cart, “Chips,” He finished, letting the clang of the tub against the metal of his trolley be a very loud punctuation.

Derek’s tongue flicked between his lips and Stiles suddenly felt hypnotized as it traced across the dark pink flesh of lips Stiles had tasted before. His middle dropped but Stiles just clung a bit harder to the back end of the cart. “I don’t care about what sort of food you get, Stiles.” Oh he said his name that was bad, so bad. When he heard his name sliding out from that mouth, Stiles sort of lost his train of thought. “I do care however about why you suddenly decided that avoiding me was such a good idea.”

“A…Avoid…Avoiding,” Stiles exclaimed, his voice echoing and twirling up into the air. Laughing, the teenager snorted and rolled his eyes, “Dude I am so not…avoiding you, or whatever. It’s like I said, Norma needed a-“

“Actually,” Derek cut in and shook his head, “Forget it. If you won’t feed me the truth, then it’s not worth listening to you babble on.”  
Stiles felt a jab at his middle, and it was different from the previous one before, he cleared his throat and scratched at the back of his head, “You always managed to listen to my babbling before, so what happened? Suddenly get tired of it?”  
“I listened because you spoke the truth, even if what you said was very much uncensored or uncut, but now you’re just,” Derek waved a hand out as he began to walk backwards, “Giving me empty words, so. Thanks but no thanks.”

When Derek turned away, Stiles stared after the male with an arm outstretched and his mouth hanging open. Had he just somehow offended Derek Hale of all people? Had Derek just called him out on his bullshit? Well it wouldn’t be the first time, but it would be one of the times Stiles could pinpoint feeling actual guilt for making someone walk away from him as if they could not even stand the sight of him. Exhaling sharply with a bitter laugh laced at the end, Stiles licked his lips and moved around to grab hold of his cart. Well fine, if Derek Hale wanted to walk away, he could walk, too and walk far, far away.

 

Except, when Stiles tried to walk, or run, or drive, Derek was there. He was at the restaurant his dad took him to so that they could discuss college, he was at the gas station several times Stiles tried to fill up his jeep, and he was there that time Stiles walked down the block to the Hale residence. Okay, that was more than just coincidence but Stiles was not very pleased to see him. Especially when he wore tight jeans and a white tank top while he cut the grass and Stiles could feel Derek’s glare as he walked up the steps to the porch and rang the doorbell. The engine to the lawnmower stopped right as the door open and Derek’s older sister, Laura, appeared standing in the doorway with her bright, cheerful smile.

“Stiles,” She exclaimed, making up for her brother’s lack of enthusiasm and warmth, “What a surprise. It’s nice to see you though, oh! Congratulations on graduating by the way, you’re a big man now.”  
Stiles laughed, his hand swung back and he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “Well I wouldn’t say all that-actually, yeah, let’s go with being a big man now, I like that better than big kid at least.”  
When Laura smiled, her nose sort of crinkled up beneath her eyes and her light orbs would sparkle with mirth, she seemed genuinely amused by the things Stiles said as opposed to Scott’s confusion or anyone else’s annoyance.  
“So, was there something you needed to talk about,” Laura asked, she had always been a person who was intimidating to Stiles at first glance. Her face was all sharp angles and high cheek bones; she had these icy-colored eyes and dark, wavy hair that gave her a much more severe impression. She was in no way ugly, in fact, Stiles thought she was one of the more beautiful girls in Beacon Hills, she ranked up there with Lydia, but she had a way about her that allowed people to know she was not one to be messed with. And if anyone crossed her…well, Stiles had heard from his dad the damage Laura had caused a bar one night after one man got a bit too grabby on one of her friends. It wasn’t pretty but the man had deserved it, so…she just stayed in for questioning that night.

“Oh, uh,” Looking over his shoulder he saw Derek moving the lawn mower into the garage and he would stare the entire time the huge door slowly slid shut. Creepy much? “Well,” Stiles looked ahead again and said, “Do you have a GPS?”  
The question seemed to throw the woman, but slowly, she nodded, her brilliant white teeth were exposed once more and she laughed around her words, “Yes, I do Stiles. Why? Do you need to borrow it?”  
Stiles tried not to look over her shoulder into the house as Derek moved past the halls and he could hear the water from the sink running. “Yes, I do. I would get one myself, but my dad’s not letting up the money for it since what bit of cash I saved is going to my gas, room expenses, things like that. And he won’t let me use the one in his cruiser because of legal purposes and-“  
“Come in,” Laura reached out and tugged Stiles in by the front of his shirt. “Make yourself at home while I go get the GPS.”

“Oh thanks,” Stiles grinned, proud that he had managed to convince someone to actually entrust him with a personal belonging. He said a short blessing over it though just to make sure that it wouldn’t get broken, or lost. He loitered around the front door for a moment before he slowly walked down the hall. On both sides, frames hung, some of them were full of random images. Like moons and lighthouses, while others showed a pimply pre-teen Derek or a Laura in braids with her skin dark and stretched out on a beach. Some of the photos looked like they had been cropped or fiddled with. Only showing the siblings and occasional random face that Stiles could not link back to the Hale family.

By the time he finished his trek down the small hallway, the area to his left opened up to a big living room, he eyed the television screen, and then the couches, chairs, and tables. Stiles kept walking through and soon right as the hallway to his left appeared again, the right disappeared and he was left standing at the very border of the Hale kitchen. 

Derek stood behind the sink, eyes down with his hands running over what looked to be like dishes except some of them were so covered in bubbles Stiles didn’t know if Derek was rubbing into a mug or a bowl. He glanced up for a split-second so Stiles took that as his cue.

“Think you overdid it there on the Dawn, buddy,” Stiles’ lips twitched up but Derek’s expression remained impassive. Nice. “You have a really sweet place, man. Like, I mean, the walls and all, colored either blue or silver, but then that back one in the living room, it’s green-who painted it?”

The sigh he received made Stiles’ pulse jump, and Derek seemed to notice as his eyes flicked to the teenager’s neck, before he gruffly responded, “Laura and I painted it.”  
“Oh,” Stiles’ hands slid into his pockets and he slowly began his walk towards the counter on the opposite side of the sink Derek was working at, complete with nice black stools. They really did have a nice house, faintly he wondered if it was because the two of them had cashed in to their insurance from their parents’ deaths but he swiftly kicked that thought away because if he didn’t it would leave his mouth and his face would become a permanent fixture with the floor.

Pulling a stool back, he hopped onto it and had to cling to the counter in front of him to remain grounded. Stiles folded his arms over the top and began to rap his knuckles along the surface with a series of pops and clicks of his lips and tongue. Derek’s movements became jerkier and the water sloshed around his arms before he rolled his eyes and threw his rag down, “Seriously Stiles?”  
“Huh?”  
“You’re going to sit there and make noise the entire time I’m cleaning and that’s it,” He asked, his gaze felt like a pair of lasers and Stiles fought down the shiver that rippled up his spine so that instead of shaking, he had a small fit instead and curled in on himself.

Dropping his forehead to the back of his folded arms, he stared at the floor, “What am I supposed to say?”  
“Tell me why you’re here,” And even though Stiles couldn’t look at Derek he could just hear the scowl in his voice. 

“To get a GPS,” Stiles answered and then tilted up his head so that only his big brown eyes were peeping out. He was glad for his current position to keep from exposing his smile at the way Derek stared at him.  
“Stiles.”  
“And to,” He sighed, finally Stiles lifted his head, “To see you…kind of.”  
“Why,” Derek’s hands pulled back from the soapy water and he switched on the faucet so that he could rinse his arms and fingers from the bubbles.  
“To…tell…you, that,” Stiles’ throat constricted and he nodded, once, “You left your ice-cream in my cart the other day.” He tried not to feel amused at the way Derek rolled his eyes, “That was very rude. I had to buy it and everything because I was already at the register and I did not feel like handing it over so that it could melt by the cashier for a few hours.”  
“Did you eat it,” Derek had moved so that his hands were resting on the edge of the counter beside the sink.  
“…Maybe.”  
“Well it’s your ice-cream now,” The older man almost sounded smug, “I was going to pay you back and go to your place to get it, but, you ate it so it’s not my problem.”

Stiles’ lips parted slowly in an offended ‘O’ and he shook his head. “How was I supposed to know that? It’s not like I have some super-duper psychic connection linked to you or anything! Your incredibly demanding sweet tooth totally just side-swept me and I think I deserve some sort of refund for the trouble you and your freaking ice cream have cause.”

Derek stared at him as if he were an idiot, but right when the darker male began to try and respond, Laura returned with a flourish of the GPS in her hands and an amused smile. “Here you go Stiles!” The device was slid over to the teenager along the counter and Stiles perked up as he took it in his long fingers and began to fiddle and press at the buttons. 

“Awesome,” Stiles hopped down to his feet and watched as Derek frowned and moved away from the sink. “Thank you very much Laura. Or. Miss Hale. I’m not sure-“  
“If I told you to call me the Queen Bee, would you?”  
There was a beat of silence and a rather nasty look from Derek before Stiles just hunched up his shoulders, “Thanks…Queen…B-“  
“I’m just kidding,” Her hand landed on Stiles’ shoulder and she guided the boy towards the door who was now towering over her. Stiles felt a small shimmer of pride at that but realized that it was just how nature went sometimes. “Call me Laura okay? Oh and if you break that GPS, I’m gonna break your face.”

Stiles squinted as if trying to figure out if Laura was telling the truth or not, but the brunette just fluttered her lashes and smiled and he couldn’t read anything between the perfect white teeth and bright eyes. “Right,” Stiles popped his lips and stepped out of the door. “Thank you then!”  
“When are you leaving?”  
Glancing over his shoulder, Stiles blinked, “Huh?”  
“For your trip,” She tilted her head and her hand slid along the door frame, “I mean that’s why you borrowed my GPS, right?”  
“Oh,” Stiles looked down, mildly dumbfounded, before he smiled at the idea of going on a road trip and perking up. That HAD been his reasoning but he hadn’t been all that convinced that he would actually take up the challenge. “Huh. You know, I’m heading out tomorrow morning. Yeah, at about eight” He pressed his lips together, nodding, “Gonna go see the Grand Canyon and some cool places on the western side of the States. I’ve never actually left California so…”  
“Oh, well good luck and have fun! Make sure to go with someone.”

Before Stiles could confirm whether or not he’d find someone to travel with the door was closed and Stiles squinted, right…because going alone would not only be boring but also a bad idea.

Pulling out his phone, he decided to go through his immediate contacts.

 

By the next morning, Stiles was all packed up and very frustrated.  
He had called Scott but his best friend had agreed with his mother to start taking on longer shifts with Allen, the vet he worked for, during the summer to try and help for the Online Schooling he had started.  
So he was out.

Stiles had attempted Danny, Boyd, hell he’d even called up a few kids he had only spoken to a few times like Isaac and Erica to tag along but apparently they all had their own Summer things going on, too.

Which was dumb because while everyone else had apparently stocked their months up with crap to do, Stiles had been free enough to hit the road.  
His dad had been against it at first but Stiles had promised to go with someone and to check in with him a few times a day.  
Stiles wanted to do this…not alone…but maybe alone was good, yeah?  
Maybe it would clear his head and give him some insight on who he was, maybe help him to get over that lump in his throat every time his mom was mentioned and figure out the sort of person he was meant to be.

By the time he had packed up the trunk of his jeep though, he heard footsteps and looked back to see Derek Hale with a leather jacket and a big black duffel bag slung over his shoulder.  
For a moment, nothing was said, but then Derek moved forward and threw his bag into the jeep’s trunk.  
“If this piece of shit breaks down midway I am going postal on you,” Derek grunted, but slammed the trunk shut and went to the passenger’s seat.

Stiles knew he should be protesting and haranguing Derek for insulting his jeep and threatening him in one sentence. Not only that but the fact that Derek had just crashed his road trip had not gone over his head. So while he could have kicked Derek out and refused to travel with him, Stiles just sighed and walked around to the driver’s side.

With the engine running and the wheels spinning back, he replied, “I hope you’re ready for hours of crooning with road tunes I stored on my iPod.”  
“…Stop the car, I need to leave.”  
“Nope, you’re my prisoner now!”


End file.
